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“Did you tell Draven it was fine for him to fuck me?” I ask, looking between them. “That after everything I’ve gone through to keep your secret, your answer was to pawn me off to a bastard?” It’s unnecessarily cruel to Draven, but it has to be said. “Fucking answer me!”

“Yes,” he spits out. “For some reason, he wants you. Desperately. And you can’t deny it solves our problem. You’ll still have a Creed heir. My father will shut up, you won’t have to keep trying to make excuses, and Draven gets what he wants. So yeah. I told him it was fine. It was our idea, actually.”

Somehow, that makes me feel better about Draven. He didn’t ask. He didn’t put me in this position. He's just trying to help me get out of it. “Why are you such a pussy? I mean seriously. You love her so much, why not tell your dad? You could’ve ended this before it began. You’d rather have everyone in this house know your wife is being bred by your brother than just man the fuck up and stand up for Morella. And you,” I round on her, making her squeal and pull the blankets up higher. Good, I hope she’s scared. “You’re a pussy too. How can you sit there letting him do this? Do you not have any self-respect at all?”

I’m prepared to keep going, but Alex holds up a hand in a move so reminiscent of Ephraim, it actually makes me stop. “Did Draven ever tell you about his mother? Not Verna. Draven’s mother Ella.”

“No. Of course not. I’ve tried to avoid him because I was under the impression you’d do what’s right.”

“Talk to him about her before you judge me. It’s not my story to tell, but when my mother found out that Ella gave birth to a son who could one day threaten my standing in the family, and she found out that our father loved Ella more than he could ever love her... she had her killed. Draven was just a baby. She tried to have him dropped in the river, but our father caught her, saved him, and would’ve hadherkilled for what she did if it weren’t for how bad it would look. This family doesn’t fuck around, Sullivan. Not when it comes to appearances.”

My heart breaks for Draven twice over. Growing up like that, being treated the way he has been only to find out that his mother, the one person on earth who would’ve loved him unconditionally was murdered by his step-mother?

“She’d kill me too,” Morella says quietly before I can find my voice. “I won’t bring her the type of heir she wants. I’m not educated enough, not pretty enough, I don’t have an important family. If she thinks that killing me will pave the way for you and the progeny they’re so desperate for, she’ll do it. You seem like a nice girl, but I won’t die for you.”

“Bold of you to assume I won’t kill you myself.” I wave Alex off as he moves between us. She has nothing to fear from me. “I won’t die for you either. If it comes down to it, if it comes down to you or me, I’ll choose to save myself. God knows no one else will.”

“Sullivan, please—”

“Shut up,” I snap. “Just shut the fuck up. I’ve had it with men telling me what to do and how to live just to suit them. I’ll play along and do my duty, but you have no right to ask it of me, to demand it of me.” Shoving past him, I pause at the door and turn around, looking him up and down slowly. I offer him a slight smirk and one last thought before I leave and slam the door in his face. “Draven’s cock is bigger anyway.”



















Fifteen

Ephraim’s pressed blacksuit looks impeccable on him, complementing his salt-and-pepper hair and cutting eyes. If he’s any indication, both Alex and Draven will age well — but this knowledge does little to soften the blow of what he’s saying to me.

“You are aware of how to have sex, yes?”

Blinking, I force myself to breathe in and out before I answer. “Yes, Sir. I can’t tell you why it hasn’t taken yet, but it will.” I’ll make sure of it. “I’m sorry for the delay. Our wedding is three months away, so maybe it’s best that I’m not getting pregnant beforehand.”

“Oh?” he challenges, stepping forward. I won’t back up. “Why is that?”

“Because. If I start showing early, there will be rumors about why he married me. I’m just being pragmatic, Sir. It’ll be better if things are done the right way as much as possible.”

His eyes darken in that way I hate, the way that spells trouble. Danger. The end of things as I know it. “I decide what the right way is, Miss Harbough. Don’t forget that. I may be old, but I’m not oblivious to the things around me. If you can’t get my son to forgo that fucking gardener and give me heirs I can do something with—” he looks me up and down, upper lip curled into a snarl — “Well let’s just say things will be very bad for both of you.”

“Sir—”